Vengeance
by Manthacake
Summary: When their leader is slain, the Dovahkiin and Vilkas are driven only for vengeance. A snippet of a look into the Dragonborn's adventures with the Companions. F!Dragonborn - spoilers for said questline, character death, and mildly disturbing imagery.


Just a little snippet of my adventures in Skyrim. This one covers part of the end of the Companions questline, so if you haven't completed that line yet, SPOILER ALERT! If you like this, I may post more; I have quite a few ideas for little bits like this, but nothing concrete yet.

Also, I don't own Skyrim, or anything affiliated. I'm just a lowly deli girl. ;_;

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The Silver Hand attacked the Companions at Jorrvaskr. I hadn't been present for the raid: Kodlak had sent me on a mission to kill the Glenmoril Witches and retrieve their heads in order to cure his lycanthropy. I had been hoping to make him happy. After all, our hearts were still darkened with the loss of Skjor, and the Companions had had little to smile about ever since. I thought that once I had helped Kodlak, our lives would change for the better.

It didn't sink in, at first. When I noticed Aela and a few of my shield brothers standing outside Jorrvaskr, they spoke as if the attack had been easily repelled, their words seemingly confident. Yet there was a certain darkness in their eyes that I couldn't quite place. Maybe I just didn't want to.

Even when I met Vilkas just inside the door, his voice dripping with anger, his eyes ablaze, I hadn't been able to understand. He spoke of revenge, and the accusation in his voice stung my heart. But yet I didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. Kodlak, dead? What a ridiculous thought. Even when I saw him lying in the center of the hall, a huge ugly slash across his chest, I denied it. A cruel joke. Nothing more.

The thing that finally made me understand was Farkas. The rock of the Companions, my big, gruff Shield-Brother with a heart of gold, the strongest in Jorrvaskr. He was sitting to the left of Kodlak's body, his legs tucked underneath him, elbows resting on his knees. It was such a childish pose that I would have laughed had I not been able to hear him cry. His broad back shook with sobs as he wept openly over the body of our former leader. The sound was the loudest thing in the hall, reverberating at an almost unbearable volume in my ears.

That was when I knew what I had to do. Ignoring the heated glare I got from Vilkas, I stepped over to where Farkas sat and slowly kneeled beside him. My heart was thrumming quickly in the back of my throat as I wrapped my arms around his thick frame, burying my face into his neck and hair. Slowly, in a voice so low that only he could hear, I whispered, "I'm going to make this better." Then my throat closed again and I stood, signaling for Vilkas to follow me as I left Jorrvaskr. My heart was set.

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I hated them.

The Silver-Hand and their smug little base. Hidden in the shadows, watching them discuss small matters like gold and food made me want to destroy them. The expression on Vilkas' face matched my own, and we ran together through the doorway, drawing our weapons.

The one nearest to us laughed when he caught sight of us. "Look, Wograf. It's the Companions. Little puppies want revenge for their master. How cute." He laughed, and the second man chuckled as he came toward us, drawing a sword.

The mocking in their voices was what put me over the edge. I dropped my weapons and managed to throw off my chestplate before the transformation took hold. My undergarments and the rest of my armor was torn apart as my body morphed and grew into something both terrifying and beautiful. The look on the Silver Hands' faces as I roared made my stomach growl, and I saw red. I tore them apart as I found them, one by one, feasting on their bodies. Every once in a while I heard steel clash, and I would rip the bastard away from Vilkas before he could so much as land a passing blow to my Shield-Brother's armor. He stayed behind me for most of the ordeal, and I was glad he did. In my insurmountable rage I may have very well taken him for one of our enemies and torn him apart as well.

When I came to the Silver Hand were no more, but the hole in my chest was despairingly empty. I turned to find Vilkas looking away from me, holding out a blanket. I wondered why for a moment before realizing that I was stark naked, and accepted the cloth gratefully.

When I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, the nausea finally swept over me. I could feel the still-warm guts of my enemies churning in my stomach. It felt like their hearts were still trying to pump blood into their bodies, and when that thought crossed my mind I bent and threw it all up. Blood and chunks of things I didn't want to think about were coming up and out of my throat, and that only made me gag harder. I dropped to my knees, barely managing to hold the cloth around my body and not really caring if it fell or not. Everything I had taken while I was transformed came up, as well as what I had eaten before I returned to Jorrvaskr and the horror that waited inside. I felt like my own vital organs were going to come up as well.

It seemed like forever, but soon my stomach stopped clenching and my throat was raw, and tears flowed down my sweat-streaked face as terribly powerful shakes crashed through my body. Dimly I realized Vilkas was kneeling beside me, his strong left hand clamped around my upper right arm in a stable grip. His head was turned away, and to this day I don't know if it was out of modesty because of my naked body or if he was mourning as well, hiding his weakness as I simultaneously let my own sorrow out.

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Let me know if you liked it!


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